Indifference
by yutta de apolda
Summary: 'You know, Dieter, I'm just wondering what you would say,' he drawled, his lips curled into a cold, sadistic smile that made her freeze again, 'if I took something that belongs to you to finally settle that old score between us.'
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:**

**Disclaimer: **Of course I am not the owner of any IB characters mentioned in this story. I only own my OCs.

**By way of explanation:**

A vague idea for this story flashed through my mind several weeks ago, but then I did not treat it as a material for a ff.

Maybe, just maybe, the decision to finally develop the original idea is a kind of my organism's reaction to the heat wave that has been taking its toll in my region ;-).

This story has nothing in common with my second (the first in fact) IB ff – the OCs are different, the Basterds' characterizations is rather different and the only similarity is that the plot is – to some extent – built around Stiglitz and his reasons for changing sides in the war.

**Warning:**

However, I must loyally warn any potential readers that this story is going to be rather dark, including quite a lot of unpleasant situations, events, dialogues and descriptions.

Of course, both 'dark' and 'unpleasant' can be quite relative terms, but personally I think this ff should fall into a 'double M' category, as it includes various forms of violence, either real or implied, intimidation, mature themes etc. etc.

And the Basterds in this story do **not always **behave or act chivalrously, so it's probably not the best story for those of you who prefer their more idealized picture of good guys fighting against bad guys, where any boundaries between good and evil are precisely delimited. Well, in this story they may be not.

There will also be some swearing here, but, believe me, that's the least of any worries you may have about this ff.

If you still want to read it in spite of the warning, **enjoy**.

And of course your opinions will be appreciated much.

As I'm going on holiday next week (at last!), another update for this ff (and probably the other) will be possible at the beginning of September. But I'm planning to continue writing on holiday, during stops between one mountain and another :-)

XXXXX

**(In)difference**

**1. A stormy night**

The footsteps behind the bathroom door suddenly become louder; he must have come closer and she froze, her hand holding a hairbrush stopped somewhere mid-air, while she was anxiously listening to any sound from outside, almost sure that he would come in. To invade her only hiding place in their Parisian apartment. Or perhaps to drag her out by the hair, as he had done once, when they had been living in Berlin.

She could feel his presence on the other side of the door, but the only thing she heard was a distant echo of thunder. The storm was coming. But, no, he did not enter the bathroom, though she knew he was still there, as his fingers tapped the door impatiently.

'Are you going to spend the whole night there, Astrid?', he asked in a seemingly neutral tone, but there was a slightly dangerous edge to his voice and she flinched.

'Just a minute,' she promptly replied, not wanting to give him a reason to be angry with her and she hurriedly opened the tap, watching the steaming water flowing down the washbasin. Then she flinched again, looking at her reflection in the mirror mimicking her gesture and for a while this pale, fair-haired girl that was looking at her with wide, wary, blue eyes seemed to be almost entirely alien to her, like a stranger met in a street. A stranger. So this is what became of her after merely seven months of the _wedded bliss_.

She wished she could _really_ stay in the bathroom long enough to make him get bored with waiting and go to bed. Their bed. She could even sleep here, on cold, brown tiles – that was definitely better than going out of the bathroom. Facing his looming figure clad in a long leather Gestapo coat. Looking into his face. Seeing his repulsive smile plastered on his face like a worn-out carnival mask. How she could ever find this smile attractive – well, find _him_ attractive – was a puzzle she had not been able to solve yet.

_Major Dieter Hellstrom of the Gestapo, at your service_, as he said during their first meeting at Colonel Richter's party, where her mother took her so that she could finally find herself some handsome German officer, some good husband. _Some good husband. _It would make her laugh, if it had been someone else's story.

She should have left the party at the same moment when his eyes had rested on her. Yet she stayed; talked to him, danced with him, and even let him steal a kiss when he was saying goodbye to her that evening, so happy she was that the officer like him, _the major_, had chosen her of all the others, was adoring her, giving her so much attention. She was silly. Wrong, she _had been_ silly. A silly, naïve girl who had thought her naive dreams came true. Now she could only smirk at her former self.

But when she finally left the bathroom, he was not standing behind the door and she stopped hesitantly in the middle of the shadowed corridor. The bedroom on her right was dark, which did not really mean anything; he could still be waiting there for her, lurking in the darkness to add to her fear of him. For a while she even thought she saw a movement there, but it was probably the play of shadows caused by a flash of lightning behind the window. And it was when she heard his laughter coming from the study and she felt a familiar stiffness somewhere at the top of her back, as if some giant hand clenched around the nape of her neck, threatening to strangle her, to squeeze her respiratory tract any time soon.

She went there reluctantly, her breath held, her footsteps so careful, that the rustle of her long silk nightdress seemed the only noise she was making when she entered the study. _His _study. Rows of shelves with books he had probably never read, but they looked nice. _Impressive_. A copy of "Mein Kampf" left on the desk like a frequently used handbook. His study. She hated this place most of all.

And he was there, with his back turned to her, slightly leaned over a small table, and she heard glass clinking while he was pouring himself a drink, which did not bode well. Not at all. He turned around, slowly, as if he did not want to scare her too quickly.

'Good evening, Astrid,' he said, a glass of whisky in his hand and he took a sip, a smile slowly spreading across his face, but his eyes were cold, calculating. He had already taken off his coat, and his dark grey shirt contrasted sharply with his fair complexion. So sharply that he seemed sick. Or tired. Or drunk.

'Dieter,' she acknowledged him, her voice a bit hoarse, as her throat suddenly became insufferably dry. 'You're back.'

It was probably not the best selection of words, especially in the mouth of someone who was supposed to be a caring wife, because his lips twitched slightly in annoyance, but he composed his face.

'Come', he motioned her to approach and she obeyed reluctantly, which also did not go unnoticed.

'You're late,' he said and his smile increased, both innocent and playful on his face, but now she knew better than to believe this façade. To relax her vigilance. And he did not wait too long to prove her that she was not wrong.

He moved the glass to his mouth and emptied it in one gulp before he put it back on the table and turned to her, still smiling, but his hand shot towards her in an instant, his fingers digging into her hair, and he yanked at it, turning her around and pulling her to him until her back hit his chest and she shut her eyes, hoping it would be all. Yet it was not.

'You're late,' he repeated, his voice husky, dangerous. 'The minute has already passed. I return home after three days and you can't even find time to welcome me properly, so busy you are, Astrid,' his hand rested on her shoulder, caressing her skin, as if contradicting his words, but she felt a twinge of fear forming gradually in her stomach. She shuddered before she realized he was waiting for her to answer.

'I'm sorry,' she said softly, her voice strained, and his fingers moved up, to her neck, stroking it absentmindedly.

'You _should_ be sorry,' he said almost gently and his fingers suddenly clenched around her neck in a gesture that seemed both threatening and playful.

'Just let me be, Dieter,' she asked quietly, when the pressure of his fingers became painful and he entwined his fingers in her hair again.

'And why should I do this, slut? You. Are. My. Wife,' he punctuated each word, yanking at her hair strongly enough to make her hiss in pain and he chuckled, putting his hands on her shoulders. 'Don't forget it.'

She closed her eyes. She _did not_, of course. He had made it clear months ago. She was his property. Mere property, like a dog, for instance. With the difference that he had never slapped his dog. And it was when he had hit her for the first time. When she had tried to argue, to be exact.

'Maybe you should give him a child,' her mother advised, frowning, when Astrid had swallowed her pride and come to her parents merely two weeks after the wedding, demonstrating a blue and purple bruise that was developing on her cheek. And that was all. Well, not exactly. Since then _he_ had been careful not to leave any traces on her face, on her neck, or anywhere someone could notice them.

Luckily, she had not seen much of him in the weeks that followed, praying that his long _business trips_ would never end, and when he returned home for a day or two, she carefully avoided anything that could annoy him. And, strangely, he seemed to appreciate her efforts. Was _almost_ nice. But when he brought her with him to France and they began to spend more time together, things quickly got back to normal. _That _normal.

'Just let me go,' she burst out in sudden anger that surprised even her and she pushed his hands away, but that was only the mistake he had been waiting for. He turned her to him as easily as if she did not weigh a thing and slapped her face twice. Once would have probably been enough, but she was defiant, returning to her old ways from the beginning of their marriage, when she had thought she could rebel him.

'It seems I was away for too long,' he snapped, his eyes studying red traces left on her cheek. 'You've become insolent again.'

He grabbed her shoulders, turning her around before he pushed her towards the desk. Her palms hit its cold top painfully, but she barely had time to notice this when he leaned over her back, his hands sliding up and down her sides roughly, painfully.

'You'll learn how to be a good wife, Astrid. I can promise you that,' he hissed into her ear. She tried to struggle, to escape his hold, but he only laughed, pressing his body against hers. 'You know, darling, that this way you'll only be hurt more. Much more,' he promised.

There was a pair of handcuffs lying on the desk and she could only hope that he would not notice them. And would not use them as he had done once to punish her even more and for almost two weeks she had to pull her sleeves down to the middle of her palms to hide purple bruises around her wrists.

But he was not paying much attention to anything around them, his breath suddenly quickened and his hands slipped under her nightdress, ripping her panties off with a well-practised movement. And he was ready to punish her; while one of his hand was unbuttoning his trousers, his other hand yanked her nightdress up. _It was going to be fun._ 'Losing your will to fight, Astrid? Or maybe you like it this way?' he smirked at her shaking back, but when he undid the last button in his trousers, a sudden voice from behind made him freeze to the core.

'Guten Abend, Dieter.'

For a long moment Hellstrom had a strange feeling that – somehow – time came to a halt, though he could still feel droplets of sweat developing on his back, as the first wave of fear swept over him. Mixed with utter amazement. It was impossible. _It. Was. Impossible._ Practically, physically and really impossible. There was no possibility that someone could get here unnoticed and at first he thought that it was his imagination playing him a trick or perhaps a side effect of alcohol he had drunk earlier this evening. But a cold touch of metal between his shoulder blades told him two things in an instant. First, the visitor was real. Second, his intentions were far from good.

Astrid froze as well, for a while too terrified even to move, but somewhere among hundreds of thoughts that were flashing through her mind right now, there was one that surprised her. Gratitude. Whoever was standing behind them making Dieter so scared that he did not dare to turn around, whoever it was, for a moment she was grateful to him. Before her fear prevailed.

'I regret to disturb you in such an urgent moment, but we have some business to discuss,' the voice mocked, and the hem of her nightdress suddenly slipped out of Dieter's fingers, though they seemed still immovable like the rest of his body was, whereas the gear wheels in his mind were turning with an increasing speed while he was desperately trying to figure it out. To match the voice with a face. To consider all possible options.

And suddenly the realization dawned on him and he licked his lips nervously. 'Stiglitz.'

The man behind chuckled and this sound was followed by two guffaws, one coming closer and she realized there were more of them than just the one who spoke.

'I'm really touched that you recognize my voice, Dieter,' he jibed again, this time in English, and Astrid gasped, her fear mixed with surprise again. 'So I'm even more sorry for what I have to do right now.'

A sudden noise that followed these words, something like a thud and then a sound of body falling to the floor, made her flinch, but before she had time to think what it meant, someone grabbed her arm in an iron grip and pulled her backward. She cried out in pain, but the grip didn't loosen and she was spun around before she could protest more, until she stood face to face with a demon. A real demon that seemed to come out of her most terrifying nightmare, although this one was impossibly tall, clad in a German uniform and his black eyes bore into her menacingly.

'Quiet,' he snarled in English and she became completely motionless, completely dumb, her eyes locked on his in horror. 'One scream or one move and I will break your neck. If you wanna live, you'd better shut up.'

The message was clear to her even in spite of his strange accent, so she did not make a sound, watching him vacantly, until he sneered nastily and she averted her eyes. His grip was still strong when he moved to stand just behind her, forcing her to face the room. She looked around warily, uncertain if she was allowed to look around at all.

Whoever they were – and she did not have the faintest idea about that – there were two more of them in the room, just as she supposed, and that knowledge just added to her fear. One was standing near the door, a machine gun in his hands, and his face could seem even nice in any other circumstances, but now he gave her a dirty look and she looked away at once. The other one was now kneeling over her husband's unconscious body, twisting his limp arms back and tying them with a piece of rope. There was blood on the side of Dieter's head where, she guessed, one of them must have hit him, but this did not scare her at all while she was watching the man finish his handiwork. And even before he spoke again, she was sure it was the man who had talked to Dieter. Supposedly their leader.

'You can be quite convincing, Donny,' he said, the same mocking tone perceptible in his voice.

And then he looked up at her and for a while she was petrified with terror, unable even to look away. His eyes were blue, just as her own, but cold, piercing, hateful, and a nasty smirk that lit his face did nothing to tone down this effect.

_Stiglitz_. She was sure she knew this surname, although she could not remember where she had heard it and her desperate attempts to remember were only blocked by sudden panic that paralysed her body and clouded her mind as if she had plunged into thickening grey fog.

'Maybe we should gag him,' he spoke again, his eyes searching the area until he found a piece of torn cotton on the floor and he looked up at her again, sneering.

'Quite fitting,' he said and the other men laughed nastily when he picked it up, whereas she averted her eyes in mortification.

'Now it's time to wake up our host,' he announced, standing up and going out of the room.

He returned quite quickly, carrying a big vase that, she supposed, he must have taken from the sitting room. He pulled out a half-withered bouquet and simply threw it to the floor. And then he poured greenish water out of the vase straight onto Hellstrom's head.

That seemed to work; Dieter flinched and then moved slightly and Stiglitz chuckled before he nudged his ribs with the tip of his shoe and when it did not cause any immediate reaction, he administered a solid kick to Hellstrom's side.

'Wake up, Dieter. It's rude, very rude to keep your guests waiting,' he sneered and the other men cheered on.

Hellstrom first blinked, then opened his eyes and looked around unconsciously, but before he could do more, Stiglitz pushed the torn cotton fabric into his mouth.

'Omar,' he said, motioning to the defeated major and the third of the assailants left his post at the door and approached Hellstrom obediently. But before he yanked the German up, forcing him to kneel, he gave him a kick in the stomach.

Stiglitz muttered something approvingly and waited until Hellstrom was able to raise his head again, and only then he started to speak in a casual tone. 'You've got a nice flat, Dieter. A quiet district. High society. But, honestly, you should have chosen something in the city centre. Did you really think that three soldiers with guns in front of the house are enough to stop us if we decided to pay you a visit?'

Just as he had thought, the gag muffled the response and only the blonde doll on his right let out a yelp, which simply delighted him.

'I've heard you got married,' his eyes were on Hellstrom again. 'Congratulations, my friend. Believe me, I would have come to the wedding reception, but I might have been busy then,' he smirked, his eyes moving to the man behind her and they both chuckled.

Then his gaze moved to her face and she shuddered. He slowly approached her and she tried to struggle against the grip still holding her mercilessly, but the man behind her twisted her arm painfully. 'Stand still,' he growled irritably into her ear and she obeyed, only her mouth were trembling, when Stiglitz stood in front of her.

'Is it Frau Hellstrom?' he asked, grabbing her chin and tilting it up until she met his gaze. 'I must say your taste in women is amazingly good, Dieter,' he said, studying her face, and he smirked even more when he heard Hellstrom struggling violently. She shut her eyes and he gave a short laugh, when a thud came from that direction.

'Omar, I'm afraid you've hurt our host,' he said chuckling and her eyes opened and warily followed his gaze towards Dieter, who was now squatting on his heels, with his head hanging down and there was blood on his forehead. A part of her was scared to the core. But another part observed this scene impassively, a surge of cold satisfaction flowing through her in an instant.

'I guess you're ready to have a little chat,' Stiglitz crouched down in front of Hellstrom, removing the gag dexterously. 'In your place, however, I wouldn't scream. No one to help you anyway and you'll only make us angry.'

Hellstrom was looking at him furiously for a long moment, before he spat in his face and Astrid froze, now absolutely positive that the men would shoot both of them with no hesitation.

Yet it did not happen.

'That was the most stupid thing to do, Dieter, my dear,' Stiglitz wiped his cheek calmly, a dark edge to his voice being the only manifestation of his anger at Hellstrom's action. 'And I'm afraid you'll have to pay for this separately.'

He stood up and took a step right to the middle of the room pensively.

'Like I said, I'm quite impressed by your choice, Dieter,' he looked at her again and she held her breath. 'But maybe I'm wrong about her,' he smirked and she looked away. 'Maybe we should first check the value of this fine lady, before we voice any opinions.'

The man behind pressed her against his body, one of his hand travelling up her thigh, quite unhurriedly, pulling the hem of her nightdress upwards and she yanked away on pure instinct. But that only made him laugh and he drew her to himself fast.

'You've heard that? Should I check it right now?' he asked derisively, his mouth close to her ear, and a moment later she felt his tongue on her cheek, slowly moving along her jaw line and then up to her ear, leaving a wet trace with cruel precision, and she gave a helpless sob.

'Don't touch her!' Hellstrom growled and the man called Omar silenced him with another blow to his head.

Stiglitz observed this with a smirk. 'Ah, you have found your voice again. And quite possessive are we. That's really good,' he admitted. 'I was afraid that your wife's fate could be unimportant to you. Nice to see it's just the opposite.'

He came up to the small table and poured himself a large whisky and he turned around unhurriedly. 'Here's to you, Dieter, and your pretty wife. I'm sure you would propose it yourself, but you still seem a bit confused about the purpose of our visit.' He took a gulp from the glass. 'So I'll come straight to the point.' He put the whisky back on the table and for some reason this gesture terrified her more than anything else. 'You know, Dieter, I'm just wondering what you would say,' he drawled, his lips curled into a cold, sadistic smile that made her freeze again, 'if I took something that belongs to you to finally settle that old score between us.'

Hellstrom was only looking at him hatefully, his eyes burning with helpless rage, but he did not reply. Nor did he move. Probably now he understood that by struggling he could only earn a new bruise and he remained silent, motionless, his clenched jaws being the only sign that he was listening.

'You're unusually silent, Dieter,' Stiglitz voice was soft, almost regretful. 'Pity. Frankly speaking I expected a more spectacular response. So now I guess my friends will take care of you while I'm going to become better acquainted with your wife,' he eyed Hellstrom's face before turning his gaze to her and the smirk he gave her made sobs start to form in her throat again. He gave a short, barking laugh at her reaction before he addressed his fellows. 'Donny, Omar, I'm leaving you with this scum. Do as you think fit. You can even castrate him for all I care but make sure he'll stay alive.'

He swiftly approached her before she could react to these words and he smiled spitefully, grabbing her arm not too gently and the man behind let go of her at once.

'Now, Frau Hellstrom, it's time you showed me around your beautiful flat. I suggest you began with the bedroom.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:**

**Disclaimer: **as before.

**Thanks a lot to my first reviewers. **Thanks for your support in choosing the 'dark' path :-) and for your opinions that are very helpful and highly motivating.

**Sorry for** any possible errors/mistakes/omissions – sometimes I overlook them even if they are glaring. Maybe I should finally change my contact lenses. Or, I don't know, sleep more.

To read once that my Stiglitz is sexy as hell made me smile stupidly for the whole day. But to read it three times… well… there was a serious danger that this stupid smile may remain on my face permanently ;-) I'm doing my best about our favourite German sergeant, but frankly speaking it's much easier to make Hugo sexy than to make Donny become an intellectual ;-)

But, as the story is going to be dark, he's gonna be quite nasty in next chapters (but still sexy ;-))

So especially for you – chapter 2 and Hugo. Hope I did him justice.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

**2. At bay**

His grip on her arm increased and he did not delay demonstrating that what he had just said was not an empty threat to finally defeat Dieter or to scare her even more. He dragged her out of the study into the dark corridor and found the way to the bedroom as easily as if he had been there before. _Maybe he was._

She tried to struggle at the door, her sobs becoming louder and more desperate, but he only hissed irritably and pushed her inside without ceremony, hard enough to make her stagger. But she managed to keep balance and turned around to face him in an instant, quite sure that he would lunge at her in the dark room, and having him behind terrified her even more.

Yet he did not assault her; he switched on the light instead and for a while it seemed almost glaring, making her blink helplessly. She took a step backwards, slowly moving to the middle of the room, then closer to the window behind her, not averting her gaze from his face, her muscles so strained that it was almost painful.

He still did not make any move in her direction; he just stood at the doorframe observing her with a seemingly detached expression, but she presumed that he was probably planning his attack carefully – to block her escape, to hurt her as hard as he could, to torture her before finishing her off. That he would kill her in the end she had no doubt.

A sudden scream of pain coming from the study broke the silence and Stiglitz smiled at her nastily.

'It seems that our dear Dieter's finally lost his reserve,' he said in German, his tone as polite and detached as if he had been starting a friendly chat with her. 'Which makes me wonder if you are as vocal as him,' he smirked and she felt her hands trembling so hard that she had to clench her fists, and a wave of panic struck her like a splash of dense, sticky liquid.

He closed the door with a thud and that snapped her out of numbness. She got tense again and stared at him in terror. But he did not come any closer; he just leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, two buttons of his dark grey shirt undone at his neck, but whether he did it now or before she could not tell.

Her gaze rapidly shifted from him to the door, then to the large bed on her left, to the night table, to the wooden wardrobe on her right and back to him, and she was desperately considering the distances, the possibilities, her chances and the meaning of a light smirk on his face that seemed to grow wider with each second. And when he finally spoke, it was as if he could read her mind.

'You won't win, so you'd better abandon any clever escape plans.'

She froze as if his voice pinned her to the spot and for a long moment they were looking at each other – the silence between them suddenly became so dense, so overwhelming, that her panting, his men' voices and the sound of blows coming from behind the door seemed to sink into it.

And then he uncrossed his arms and took one step towards her.

'I'm not sure whether you've heard of me and obviously Dieter didn't find it fit to introduce us,' he said silkily, taking another step, as he was slowly but surely closing the distance between them and she was watching him in panic, distracted by his voice, by what he was saying, but still terribly aware of him moving closer and closer with every word.

'Not that I blame him for this,' he sneered, 'but we must remedy this obvious oversight before we proceed any further.' He stopped in front of her and she held her breath.

'Hugo Stiglitz, madam. Does that ring any bells with you?'

She looked at him vacantly and he gave a scornful laugh. 'Come on, even someone like _you_ must sometimes read newspapers. At least when you're bored.'

It sounded like an insult even without his dismissive tone and she looked at him resentfully, her pride for an instant prevailing over her fear of him, but at the same moment a sudden memory made her gasp.

_Newspapers_. A newspaper headline. A black and white photograph and a completely unbelievable article she had read a few months ago. A man who had killed thirteen Gestapo officers as easily as if they had been a bunch of vulnerable old men. _Gestapo_ officers.

_Stiglitz_. _That_ was his name. Her eyes immediately grew wider and she let out a soft whimper when she recognized the man from that photograph in him.

He curled his lips in triumph. 'I suppose that it rings a bell,' he said, moving closer and circling her slowly like a large, dark panther, his movements catlike and menacing, and now she was sure the end of this game was close.

She only hoped it would not hurt too much.

'What's your name?' he asked unexpectedly, but she did not reply and he did not repeat the question.

'You're not a particularly loquacious type,' he was now behind her, close, but not close enough to touch her yet and she froze when she felt him lean forward, his mouth beside her ear and his breath tickling her neck. 'Pity. I was hoping for an interesting conversation. But don't worry, we'll do something about your silence.'

Her gaze dropped to the ground and for a while she closed her eyelids tightly.

'So now I guess we must finish the formal part,' he informed her softly, but still did not reach for her, moving around her unhurriedly. 'Strip,' he said unexpectedly when he stood in front of her again and in spite of his casual tone it was a command.

She did not move, however, only her hands started to shake again.

'Can't you hear me?' he asked calmly, but it was that kind of calmness that made her blood run cold and she let out a choked sob. 'I told you to strip.'

She still did not make any movement other than a flinch and he smiled as if in appreciation of her lack of response.

'You wanna me to help you?' he asked understandingly. 'Or maybe you wanna my men to become involved at this stage?'

The reaction was lightning; she looked up at him in horror, her face almost white and her lips moving involuntarily as if she was telling a silent prayer.

'I assume that you don't like any of these options,' he said, dark amusement clear in his voice. 'So you'd better do what you're told. I'm getting tired of this foreplay.'

She felt tears flowing down her cheeks and she closed her eyes to stop them, but she was not able to restrain sobs coming out from her dry throat, when she clenched her fingers on the fabric of her nightdress.

'Slowly,' he demanded, his voice coming from a different point and she opened her eyes at once.

He was sitting on the bed, watching her closely, his lips twisted into a nasty smirk.

'Slowly,' he repeated patronisingly. 'We don't need to hurry, Frau Hellstrom. Let's give Dieter some time.'

He lazily leaned back, propped on his elbows, sprawled on the bed, undisturbed by any noises coming from behind the door.

'Go on,' he encouraged mockingly and it was when something snapped deep inside her. She darted a glance at the door and she rushed towards it even before she could think of any reasonableness of this step.

But he was right behind her when she grabbed the handle, one of his arms wrapping tightly around her waist like a tentacle and his fingers encircling her shoulder in a vice-like grip.

'You _are_ very stupid,' he hissed, yanking her backwards and turning her to him.

'What were you trying to do?' he asked, his tone mocking again, but calm, restrained. 'Escape from me? Do you really think you can escape from here?' he gave a short, unpleasant laugh and she started to cry helplessly.

'Quiet!' he snarled, his face inches from hers, and her last sobs got stuck in her throat, her eyes growing wide again.

He smirked. 'That's better.' He took a step backwards, blocking her way to the door. 'Now I'll give you the last fucking chance before I call my men. Take off this frock. Take. It. Off.'

She shuddered at the dark threat hidden in his tone, but her fingers got hold of the fabric of her nightdress and she yanked it upwards in sudden determination, pulled it off over her head and threw it on the floor furiously. And then she looked him in the eyes; her gaze as hateful and defiant as if that weeping, terrified girl that had been shaking in front of him a moment ago was gone for good, replaced by someone forged from cold fury. From pure hatred.

And although she knew that the metamorphosis was fragile, temporary – he could easily reduce her to the previous state in mere seconds – at the moment she did not care. About his reaction. His anger. His gaze on her skin.

But he had not even thrown a glance at her naked body yet – he was studying her face, her angry eyes, her pursed lips.

'Rebellious?' he asked pensively. 'Or simply arrogant?'

She neither replied nor gazed away and something flashed in his eyes before he closed the distance between them in one step and grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him violently and the feel of the coarse cloth of his shirt on her skin was almost burning.

'I'm going to cure you of any arrogance, bitch,' he snarled into her ear and then pushed her forcefully back to the middle of the room.

She staggered, but did not fall down and for a while he was looking at her impassively, his sudden outburst gone and almost forgotten when his gaze moved down to her heaving breasts and she automatically crossed her arms on her chest.

'Don't!' he said sharply and her eyes locked on his angrily. 'Put your hands down.'

She glared at him in response and the familiar smirk returned to his face.

'If you wanna do it the hardest way possible, I won't object. Be my guest.' Her arms dropped to her sides even before he finished.

'Yeah,' he admitted. 'So we're finally making some progress.'

His eyes were roaming through her body impassively for a long agonizing moment and when he suddenly shifted, she instinctively crossed her arms again.

'So much about the progress,' he snorted. 'We must definitely establish some rules before you can come to wrong conclusions about our little date.'

He approached her smoothly and his hand rested heavily on her shoulder, holding her in place, which was in fact unnecessary as she did not even move under his gaze, her arms still embracing her form protectively.

'Listen carefully, Frau Hellstrom, cause I'm not going to repeat myself. You seem to be completely unaware of your current predicament, so I guess some explanation is in order. Simple enough for you to get it.'

She glared at him again and he smiled rapaciously.

'Perhaps in your naivety you think that you'll give me a fright with that nice scowl of yours. Perhaps you hope that I'll spare you and leave this room,' he snorted with laughter. 'I can't really have this misapprehension last any longer, my dear, so let me enlighten you as to what you've been caught in. You're my prisoner. Prisoner,' he repeated gruffly and his grip on her shoulder increased as if he wanted to emphasize his words even more, his fingers pressing her skin painfully, but at the moment she could hardly feel the pain. 'I've just taken you captive, which means that I can do whatever I want with you, your rights wiped out here and now,' he said with a sneer and she gazed away, feeling her fear returning and slowly, insidiously taking away the little courage she had plucked up.

'And if you wanna quote Geneva Convention,' he twisted his mouth into an indulgent smile, 'we don't really think that its rules should apply to a little Nazi whore spreading her legs before any Gestapo scum, her husband or not,' she flinched at his mention of Dieter and he gave an amused snort.

'It seems that I've hit the nail.

He got hold of her chin, forcing her to look at him, before he continued in the same firm, steady, impassive voice that gave her the creeps even before his words reached her. 'You know that I could easily kill you right now. Slit your throat. Stab you to death. Break your neck. Or maybe break any single bone in your body,' she looked up at him in horror and he smiled coldly. 'Yeah, this can be done, but may take a while. I could also fuck you right on your marriage bed and leave you bleeding. I could tell my men to do the same and I'm sure that could be quite a show.'

Her lips started trembling involuntarily and she gave an uncontrollable sob, while he was observing her with narrowed eyes, undoubtedly satisfied with her reaction.

'Yeah,' he admitted. 'That could be a fun. A nice distraction from our usual job. But I'm afraid this would be a one-time action and even if it made Dieter rather angry with me, I don't think he would still be much affected after a month or two. Repeated messages should be more effective.'

He let go of her chin and she hung her head, her arms still crossed.

'So you don't need to be afraid that our acquaintance will come to a tragic end tonight. I have some other plans for you,' he informed her with a sneer.

'I don't care,' she whispered unexpectedly and although her voice was barely audible, it reached him.

'Excuse me, what have you said?' he asked in mock politeness and she raised her head in sudden anger.

'I don't care!' she spat hatefully and he looked at her in cold surprise.

'So you really think you have nothing to lose?' he asked calmly, but at the next instant he grabbed her shoulders forcefully and pushed her onto the bed.

She tried to get up almost at that very moment when her body hit the cold material of the bedding, but he lunged forward and forced her down again, clenching his fingers on her arms and shaking her strongly before he pushed her down on her back.

'That's what you want?' he snarled, bending down, and she began struggling with all her might, thrashing around in a desperate attempt to hit him, to kick him. To break out of his grip. But she only managed to scratch his hands before he forcefully turned her over onto her stomach, twisting her arm and pressing her into the duvet.

A scream escaped her lips before he leaned over her, pinning her shaking form with his body and pressing her face into the pillow for a moment long enough to let the warning sink in.

'You still think it was wise to provoke me?' he hissed furiously into her ear, but loosened his grip on her neck and she turned her face to the side, panting for breath, her cheeks pale and wet with tears.

Her right arm was still twisted painfully and trapped under his considerable weight and she was sure it would break the moment he began to move. Yet he did not; he was just waiting patiently for her breathing to become even.

'Ready to talk?' he asked matter-of-factly.

'Let me go!' she cried out in both pain and frustration.

'I don't think so,' came the cool reply. 'You need a good lesson, Frau Hellstrom, as it seems that actions speak to you much louder than words.'

His right hand rested on her shoulder and then moved down her side, stroking her skin slowly, methodically, cruelly, in a mocking caress. She tried to recoil from his touch, but only yelped with pain, when her twisted arm made itself felt.

'You arm,' he said, his voice silky and derisive. 'You really should be more careful, my dear.'

His hand stopped on her hip for a while and then it slid between her body and the duvet and she let out a helpless sob.

'I guess you must be terribly frustrated, my dear,' he said softly and his lips brushed her shoulder. 'We interrupted too quickly, before Dieter could even finish your little marital game. That must have annoyed you. You wanna me to start where he finished, don't ya?

'No!' she sobbed, and his mouth touching her shoulder again sent shivers down her spine.

He chuckled. 'You're becoming unbearably talkative. I'm afraid you can even tell me your name right now.'

His hand began to move absent-mindedly up her stomach and she whimpered helplessly.

'Please,' a choke in her voice made the word vague and she repeated it desperately. 'Please. Please!'

'Saying something?' he asked, a note of cruel amusement in his voice, while the hand that was still travelling unhurriedly finally reached its destination and he slightly squeezed her breast.

'Please, stop it,' she cried.

'You sure?' he mocked.

'Y…yes,' she stammered, squeezing her eyelids.

'And if I do,' he drawled, 'will you cooperate?'

'Yes,' she said hesitantly and he chuckled.

'At least you're reasonable. Your name?'

'Astrid.'

'Nice,' he said. 'So tell me, Astrid, if Dieter keeps any guns at home?'

'Yes,' she stuttered out.

'You know where?'

'Yes.'

'Will you show me?'

'Yes,' she replied feebly.

'That's what I like to hear,' he chuckled and the hand touching her was gone in an instant, but his mouth came closer to her ear and she closed her eyes in fear.

'I suggest that you don't push your luck any longer,' he whispered. 'I may be quite tolerant, but as you can see, even my patience has its limits.'

She felt him get up, but did not dare to move, her head spinning and her right arm throbbing mercilessly.

'Are you going to stand up at last or do you prefer to remain in this highly provocative position?' he asked impassively. 'I may assume you want me to return to…'

'No!' She turned around clumsily and sat up, pulling her legs up to her chest and rubbing her arm. Avoiding his eyes.

He gave a short laugh. 'As hurt as I am about you turning me down so cruelly, I guess we don't really have time for more caresses right now. We must find you a nice attire for a forest camp,' he smirked and opened the wardrobe, searching through its contents casually.

'Try this,' he threw her a long, brown woolen skirt and it landed on the bed beside her, but she did not move.

'You don't like it?' he asked when he turned to her. 'You will. And now put it on, Astrid. Put. It. On.'

She grabbed the skirt and pulled it on hurriedly before he handed her a long-sleeved blouse. Green. Shockingly simple compared with her other clothes, but she put it on, her hands shaking under his gaze.

'I need…' she paused, casting a hesitant glance at him.

'Underwear,' he gave her a crooked smile. 'Not that I'm surprised. Sure. But choose something I'll like,' he added derisively when she went past him to the wardrobe, opening the other door.

Her hand brushed her bras absent-mindedly and then moved to the upper shelf almost automatically, though for an instant she did not understand why she had reached here.

She felt the shape of Dieter's pistol behind his neatly folded pyjamas even before she remembered it was hidden here. _Just in case_. And it was definitely _that _case. She hesitated only momentarily before she turned around to the man behind her, pointing the pistol at him.

'My, my,' he smirked, meeting her hard gaze with a bored expression, 'and to think that I've just started to like you.'


	3. Chapter 3

Hello, I'm back with chapter three. Very very very sorry for the delay. But life is really nasty in autumn. At least for me.

But I'll do my best to update soon.

Thank you very much, my dear reviewers – I should say my muses – your opinions, comments, expectations kept me writing or composing certain parts even when I really had no time for writing.

Thanks to all the others who have read, liked and alerted this story.

Of course, some things are getting complicated here, but it's really not a story of a damsel in distress. And it's only the beginning of the plot in fact.

Hope you'll enjoy it

xxxxxxxxxx

**3. Defeat**

She took him by surprise.

Completely.

Absolutely.

And all he could do now was to wait for her next move, while he was inwardly cursing his own stupidity. This dangerous mixture of conceit, arrogance and premature optimism that could now ruin much – if not everything – in a few seconds.

He had underestimated her. Had not really expected this silent, pale, fragile girl – in fact a bit too pale and fragile to be his type – to show her claws in the end. To defy him right after he had shown her her place in this game and she became so docile, so submissive, that it dulled his vigilance for a moment.

And the bitch fooled him.

If his face was as easy to read as hers, she could now exult in her victory. Take her revenge for all his taunts and violence. Overpower him in a calculated tit-for-tat action. And then shoot him to death like a rabid dog.

But right now she was simply watching him with wide eyes, desperately clenching her fingers around the gun handle as if holding it with all her might could really save her life, and she was undoubtedly disconcerted by his response to her _oh-so-masterful_ move. Or rather by no particular response. No surprise. No fear. No anxiety. As if her pointing a gun at him was just a part of the game. Quite a boring part.

He had no idea what exactly she had expected from him; retreating from the room and leaving her alone, pleading for his life, apologizing to her for what he had done and said; each guess was more absurd than the last. But whatever she had been hoping for certainly did not occur and her face froze in a look of disbelief. Amazement.

Shrouded in fear; these two feelings were blending together – like a spoonful of ink poured into a glass of water. For a moment he could see the boundary between them quite clearly, but as the seconds ticked by, the fear began to prevail and her expression was slowly changing into this of stunned horror.

She was scared now. Totally, deeply, delightfully terrified and he took a somewhat perverse pleasure in observing her, taking in her soft hair still a bit dishevelled after their fight, her lips – so deliciously red and parted as if she was going to finally say something but thought better of it – and a blush on her face that was slowly covering the paleness, adding a bit of colour to her features. But for the gun in her hand, he would have liked the view.

There was also a reddish trace still visible on her cheek where, as he supposed, Dieter must have slapped her, which was neither surprising nor shocking – he was aware of rather unsophisticated methods Hellstrom had used to keep his women in line and he did not really need to see bruises on her body – other than those he had inevitably left himself – to guess that she had been subject to the same treatment the Gestapo major usually applied to all the others.

With one exception only.

And that thought – and certain memories that flashed through his mind in an instant – made his expression become fierce, intense, for a moment long enough for her to notice that – her sharp intake of breath brought him back to earth. Back to the job in hand and he composed his features at once not to scare her more.

That was all strange, almost unbelievable. She should have shot him there and then as soon as she had treacherously pulled the last – as he hoped – ace out of her sleeve. But for some reasons that were not quite clear to him – not that he had time or desire to analyze them right now – Hellstrom's wife was unable to play her cards right.

And it suddenly occurred to him that she just did not know what to do next. That's why she was staring at him as if she was trying to read any clue from his face.

'I must say you've impressed me, ma'am,' he smiled at her reassuringly. 'You _do_ have the soul of a warrior.'

She flinched the moment his voice broke the silence and her hand that was holding the gun trembled so much that she had to add the other hand to keep it steady. But she was still obviously unwilling to pull the trigger.

'And what are you going to do now?' he asked, his voice calm, controlled, almost kind. 'Shoot me?'

She winced almost imperceptibly at his last words and a smile flitted across his face as he was trying to read from what was written all over her face whether it was the first time she had been holding a gun in these little hands of hers. Most likely. But even if she was a damn good shooter he doubted whether – in her present state of mind – she could kill him with a single shot. Even at this range.

Whether she was able to do this at all, to kill him, was another question he considered, though in this case the answer was even more uncertain. She delayed. Not for the reason of keeping him in suspense or scaring him, but because _she_ was scared. Of him. Of her own surge of courage that had made her take out the gun and point it at him. And, in the first place, of the necessity to continue the game she had begun.

But there was still a possibility that she might do this. Shoot him if he pushed the wrong button. If something startled her more than a stroke of lightning right behind the window. So he had to hurry up with his little performance if he did not want to end up with a bullet in his stomach. A particularly nasty and painful kind of death .

'You've got a plan, right?' he asked, a note of polite interest prevailing in his tone, and her eyes grew even wider and her lips parted even more.

Which only confirmed what he had already guessed. She didn't. _Didn't have any fucking plan._

'So let me help you, Astrid. Let's consider possible options, shall we?' he suggested, his voice soft, persuasive, almost seductive. 'Suppose you kill me here and now. So you must know that it's only the first step on a long and difficult road you have to follow if you wanna get out of here. Alive.'

He paused to let her take in his words, taste them properly. Knowing well how bitter this taste would be.

'You remember we're not alone here, don't you?' he asked and she shuddered, whether at the thought of what had happened in the study or at the prospect of having to confront his men again.

'My soldiers, who are currently _talking_ to your husband,' he said it out loud to leave her no illusions about who he meant. 'I'm afraid you'll have to kill them as well. Which won't be easy. If it's possible at all,' he gave her an almost regretful smile.

'And even if you can handle that, there are still a few of my men outside and I'm afraid they won't take kindly to your bravado.'

Her eyes skittered to the window for a blink of an eye, but he noticed that.

'I wouldn't advise you to jump out of the window. Most likely you'll end up with your leg broken and that's not the best finale for your little bravery act.'

'And if you think of your neighbours downstairs,' he added, 'we took care of them before we came to visit your husband.'

She gasped in shock and he slowly raised his hand in a reassuring gesture.

'Calm down, they're still alive. We aren't monsters,' he smiled, careful not to make it a smirk, which could – _quite rightly in fact_ – contradict his words, and a memory of Captain Kurtz, now lying on the floor next to his wife and children, bruised, powerless, tied up and gagged just like the rest of them, almost made him laugh. 'But for obvious reasons you can't expect them to help you right now.'

She was now avoiding his eyes, visibly shaken and he could clearly see a kaleidoscope of emotions flickering through her face.

'For formality's sake,' he informed her in the same polite, detached voice, 'I must add that we also made sure that your other neighbour, Colonel Rainer, wouldn't return from his holiday, so we really don't need to worry that he'll just come and interrupt us.'

'To sum up our little analysis,' he said after a pause. 'This plan sounds like pure madness. And you don't seem to be a suicidal type, Astrid. Quite the opposite, in fact. You wanna live through this, don't you?'

Her hands were trembling now, but her grip on the gun did not loosen even a bit and he decided it was time to revert to plan B, although now it was more like walking on ice so brittle that one wrong step could earn him a bullet. Beyond all doubt.

'However, maybe I'm wrong about your hidden talents,' he said silkily and she looked up at him in surprise. 'Maybe you could handle that easily. Become a hero. Kill us all like the Aryan goddess of vengeance and come to your husband's rescue. _Save him_.'

He saw her mouth twitch before she averted her eyes from him, and he suppressed a smile. _So she had raised to the bait._

'D'you think he could learn to respect you then? Treat you like a man should treat his wife?' he asked, a hint of almost real concern in his voice and he cautiously, slowly took a step forwards. The step he just needed to take. But at the moment she seemed not to notice that at all.

'I know Dieter,' he said without a trace of a smile and she looked up at him vacantly, her eyes suddenly glazed, as if she was on the verge of tears. That is exactly where he wanted her to be.

'These bruises on your body…' he paused and she inhaled sharply, holding this breath until he finished. 'It's his handiwork, right?'

She looked away again, trying to blink her tears back and that was precisely the moment he was waiting for. There would be no better chance.

When he caught her it was fast. A slick sidestep that made her freeze for a moment too long to let her win. Or even try to fight him when he grabbed her hands roughly and drew her to himself in a half turn, not loosening his grip as her back hit his chest.

'Drop the gun!' he hissed angrily, all pretence at politeness forgotten, and his fingers clenched around her wrists like steel clamps.

She gave a yelp of pain and could only watch the gun slip from between her stiffened fingers and fall to the carpet with a thud.

'No,' she screamed as he kicked it away, and she gathered the little strength she could find to free herself.

'I don't really like to hurt you right now, but you give me no choice,' he snarled and pressed her to himself so tightly that no amount of struggling would break his grip.

And she finally gave up, numb, defeated, hanging in his arms inertly.

'It's okay,' he whispered into her ear, when he heard her sobs. _Sweet music for the ears._ 'It's over. Just a little mistake you won't repeat again. No need to cry your eyes out.'

He stroked her hair in a mocking imitation of caress and she recoiled from his touch, which made him chuckle.

'You don't like me touching you, do you?' he asked huskily and she let out a helpless whimper. 'So don't give me the reason to do this,' his mouth brushed her ear and she shut her eyes tight.

But he let go of her and she turned around, not taking her eyes off him when she stepped backwards until she felt the wardrobe door behind her back. She leaned against it and was standing motionless when he picked up the gun and checked it.

'Unloaded,' he smiled at her, shaking his head, and she closed her eyes. 'And you thought you could injure me, or maybe even kill me?' he asked in dark amusement. 'How disappointing. If only Dieter took better care of his weapon. Or his women,' he added and her eyes snapped open to meet his mocking gaze.

'That's good you didn't try anything silly, like pressing the trigger. I really appreciate this and you can expect your good behaviour to be rewarded soon,' he chuckled at her horrified expression.

A sudden knock at the door startled her, but Stiglitz did not even flinch as if he had been expecting that for a while.

'Come in,' he gave a barking order and the door opened at once, making her freeze to the spot.

She knew it would be one of them, but hoped for anyone other than the large black-haired man who had frightened her in the study, although now he looked far more frightening, his hands covered with red trails that by no means was his own blood. Some blood was also smudged on his forehead where he must have wiped sweat off his face.

His shirt was undone and covered with stains. But the glance he shot at her when he entered, a dark, filthy promise included in this glance, terrified her most of all.

'What's up, Donny?' Stiglitz asked him in English, not even averting his eyes from her, watching her reaction in amusement. 'How's our host?'

'Seems that he's got enough. We've knocked hell out of him.'

The terrible, satisfied sneer that was slowly spreading over the man's face made Astrid gasp and it was when his eyes moved to her face. 'What about this slut? You've finished with her? Shall we take care of her now?'

Stiglitz simply smirked when she darted a horrified look at him and he was watching her for a deliberately long moment before he cast a quick glance at the other man.

'Not yet. She can be useful.'

'Yeah, I'm sure she can,' the man called Donny watched her with a nasty grimace, half-hateful and half-excited. 'I can even think of one or two things she can be useful for.'

He approached her slowly, eying her up and down with a sneer, and she felt nauseous when the sour smell of sweat mixed with the odour of blood enfolded her. He smelled of death.

'Quite useful,' he spoke approvingly, and his hand raised up to her face, making her recoil in both horror and disgust.

But before he touched her, Stiglitz's hand dropped heavily on his shoulder.

'Manners, Donowitz', he smirked. 'You've scared my captive. Can't you keep your hands off?'

'Your _captive_?' the black eyes bore into her in surprise before they shifted to Stiglitz. 'I thought we had different plans. What are you going to do with her?'

'Why, I'm taking this _lady_ with us.' Stiglitz's hand brushed her cheek playfully and she yanked her head away, which amused him even more. 'Need a nice souvenir from Dieter. He owes me even more than that,' he smirked and the other man snorted in laughter before his face grew serious again.

'Aldo won't be glad about that,'

'I'll talk to him,' Stiglitz replied stolidly.

Donowitz looked at him searchingly, his expression intense as if he was calculating something and then he threw a fleeting glance at her before he looked at Stiglitz.

'You're going to share?', he asked with a repulsive smile that added to the repulsiveness of the proposal and she froze.

'Maybe,' Stiglitz cast a glance at her and a smile that flickered on his lips for a moment made her scowl. 'But not yet,' he patted the other man's shoulder on his way to the door and she threw him a half-pleading and half-furious glance, which he noticed when he turned with his hand on the door handle and it made him smirk smugly. 'I must see our host now. We have something to discuss. Keep an eye on her for a moment. But, Donny…'

'Yeah?'

'Don't try anything. I happen to be quite possessive about my property. Just like Hellstrom.'

'Sure,' that came reluctantly, after a moment of silence.

Stiglitz's gaze moved to her and his eyes locked on hers for a moment.

'And be careful. She can be really…' he made a deliberately long pause and she pressed her back against the wardrobe door as if she wanted to sink into it. 'Difficult.'

He closed the door after him and she darted a quick, frightened glance at the monster that was left to guard her and he looked at her angrily, which made avert her gaze at once. She suddenly felt tired, powerless, her legs buckling as if all strength left her and she sank to her knees.

He watched her in surprise that suddenly turned into annoyance.

'Get up!' he demanded, but she did not move and he gave an impatient snort.

'Get the fuck up!' this time he roared, taking a step towards her, which immediately shook her out of numbness.

She raised herself clumsily, avoiding his gaze, though she was watching him out of the corner of her eye. So when he came closer, she flinched and stepped back, once again pressing her back against the wardrobe.

He gave a short laugh at her reaction and she felt a twinge of anger, both sudden and surprising.

'You know that this house belonged to a Jewish family?' he asked, staring at her hatefully and he sneered when her eyes widened. 'No, you didn't know it, of course. They killed them so that a bitch like you could live here with her Gestapo husband. I hope you enjoyed your stay.'

She swallowed hard, aware of him approaching her unhurriedly.

'Your name?' he barked a question when he stood in front of her.

She did not reply and his fists suddenly hit the wardrobe door on both sides of her head.

'I know you understand English,' he snarled into her face and she winced at the proximity, but held his gaze.

'I asked you a question, bitch,' he said gruffly, 'and either you answer it right now or I'll rip the answer out of your throat!'

'Astrid,' she snapped back, and his sneer widened.

'How nice,' he laughed. 'I'm Donny Donowitz, but maybe you know how your people call me? The Bearrr Jew,' he laughed malevolently and she froze in a flash of intuition.

She knew the name. Had heard it, even not once or twice. _The Bear Jew_. _The Basterds. _

'You've heard of me?' His fingers touched her cheek roughly and she recoiled, but there was more anger than fear in this gesture.

'Your commander told you not to touch me,' she hissed at him and his eyebrow was raised for a second before he burst out laughing. A loud, mirthless laugh that gave her the creeps.

'_Stiglitz_,' he stressed this word in a way that suggested some condescension, but she sensed some envy behind this façade. Some resentment. 'Stiglitz is not my commander, bitch. He's only in charge of this mission.'

'So you should follow his orders here,' she snapped. 'Keep your hands away from me!'

Something flashed in his eyes and they narrowed dangerously, as he was watching her closely for a long moment before his lips spread in a wide, nasty grin.

'You think he'll help you? Protect you? Spare you?' he sneered at her, leaning down so that his face was right in front of her. 'He needs you only to get even with your husband. He had good reasons,' his laugh terrified her even more than his words she did not quite understand.

'He'll give you hell, make no mistake about it. And then he'll kill you,' his grin turned into a sadistic grimace. 'Or maybe he'll give you to me.'

She felt her hands curl into fists and they were eyeing each other in silence until the door opened again and Stiglitz entered the room without bothering to knock, a piece of rope in his hand. Their heads turned to him in unison and he gave them a searching look before a familiar smirk graced his face.

'We're leaving, Donny. Help Omar pack some food.'

Donowitz shot an irritated glance at her, but he left at once, without saying a word.

Stiglitz's gaze moved to her and he smiled, demonstrating the rope.

'I'm afraid I must tie your hands up,' he said and she was staring at him with a strange expression before she slowly, reluctantly held out her hands.

'No, no, no,' he shook his head, the same cryptic smile playing on his lips. 'That's the option reserved for really good girls. And we both know you don't fall into this category. So turn around.'

She did not move and his smile faded.

'I thought that your little conversation with Donny would soften you up properly, but it seems I was wrong.'

Her eyes widened for a moment before they turned into furious slits.

'You…,' she began angrily, but stopped under his hard gaze and he smirked knowingly.

'Just turn around and give me your hands. Don't make it all more difficult for you. I'm not joking.'

She obeyed this time, angry tears flowing down her cheeks as he was tying her hands not too gently. And when he turned her back to him, he studied wet traces on her face approvingly.

'That's how I like you the most,' he smirked at her furious expression.

'Time to go, milady. Your carriage is waiting. And there is something we'd like you to do before we leave.'


	4. Chapter 4

**4. ****Prey**

The lieutenant spat on the ground when a bitter taste he suddenly felt in his mouth became unbearable.

'Whose bright idea was it?' he snapped for formality's sake, even though he had already known the answer.

'Mine.'

Stiglitz said it without even batting an eyelid and Aldo gave him a dirty look before he cast another glance at the other side of the clearing, where a blonde-haired girl was sitting on the grass in a position that could hardly be comfortable, with her hands tied at the back and her legs pulled up. But she did nothing to change this pose, just stayed motionless where Hirschberg had left her.

Her skirt was ridden up – either by accident or not – exposing her tights, naked, most likely covered with goosebumps, yet quite literally bathed in gold. In gold-like glitter of the fire. And shapely enough to catch Aldo's attention for a moment.

She was shivering, but whether it was with cold or fear he could not tell.

Not that he gave a damn.

He spat once again, as if on second thoughts. _Goddammit!_

Right, he might have had his doubts about putting Stiglitz – and not Donny – in charge of this mission, but his dilemma had come down to one fundamental question. Whether his German sergeant would precisely follow the orders he had finally agreed to follow. Or change his mind and kill Hellstrom on the spur of the moment, when his bad instincts prevailed. When his thirst for revenge became irresistible.

That was precisely what had bothered the lieutenant when he had been waiting for his men at the camp, with Utivitz and Kagan to keep him company. But, in all honesty, he had never expected them to return to their hideout with a prisoner – as if taking captives was an usual practice in their squad. With Hellstrom's wife Stiglitz had God knows what plans for. A blonde Nazi doll now scared shitless, too terrified to even move or look at them.

At least she was not crying or screaming, in fact she had not uttered a single sound of protest even when – on Aldo's orders – Hirschberg had brutally pulled her out of the truck and dragged her to the clearing, finally pushing her to the ground with evident pleasure.

'Let's say I consider her a part of my spoils.' Stiglitz's voice was still calm and firm, but there was a hint of amusement to it and Aldo eyed him irritably.

'Spoils!' he gave a short, mirthless laugh. 'Couldn't you choose something smaller? More convenient? Easier to handle?'

'She's sufficient' Stiglitz replied calmly and it was precisely the moment when his smirk began to get on Aldo's nerves.

'And what are you going to do with her, Hugo?' he hissed impatiently. 'Fuck her? Kill her? Cut her? Sharpen your knife against her skin?'

The German just gave him a piercing look the lieutenant had got used to a long time ago. 'I haven't decided yet,' he said impassively.

'So you haven't decided yet,' Aldo's drawl was deliberately pronounced, an evident manifestation of his growing irritation, but Stiglitz seemed not to notice that at all, his expression detached and annoyingly calm.

'When are you going to decide?' the lieutenant barked, his gaze going back to the girl.

Honestly, if it had been Donowitz's initiative, he would have done his best to chew the old rascal out properly. Once and for all. Enough to knock any stupid ideas out of his head.

But it was Stiglitz and in a way that was hard even to explain the German sergeant's status in the squad was special. Extraordinary. As if he was not one of Aldo's soldiers, but a kinda military adviser. A Nazi expert. A special affairs officer, even if these affairs included highly inventive methods of killing his own country men.

'Soon,' came a clipped reply as Stiglitz was apparently going to try his patience even more, and Aldo clenched his teeth.

'Can you just tell me why the hell you brought her here at all?'

'Revenge.' Stiglitz held his gaze unblinking.

'Revenge you say?' There was no surprise in the lieutenant's tone; he was even glad that they finally came to the crux of the matter. 'But why the fuck take her here? You had enough time to have your way with her in front of Hellstrom,' he paused for a moment before he added in sudden irritation. 'And slit her throat right after you finished.'

'I thought about that.' Stiglitz twisted his lips into a malevolent smile. 'But that would be too simple. And I'm not going to make it too easy for Dieter. Wanna give him something to think about when he's recovering in hospital.' His smile widened. And seemed more unpleasant. 'I had a nice chat with him before we left.'

'And?' Aldo winced impatiently when the pause became too long. Much too long for his liking.

'Told him I'd take care of his wife. Keep her for a while,' Stiglitz threw a quick glance at the girl. 'He didn't like it.'

'Revenge,' the lieutenant said after a while, 'can be simple. Prompt. Easy. Does not require unnecessary complications. Or sophisticated plans. In the end a bullet in the head can be just as effective.'

Stiglitz did not comment, did not reply at all, but the answer was written all over his face, and Aldo grimaced when it became obvious that they would not reach any agreement in that respect. That any agreement could not be reached.

'I'm not going to cart a Nazi bitch around with me, unless you give me a good reason to do this,' he spat out. 'A good reason for us all.'

'A good reason?' Stiglitz's lips twisted into a devilish smile again. 'The same as always. Propaganda. They'll fear us even more when it becomes clear that even their women are not safe from us. That we can easily take their officer's wife and do with her whatever we please. And they can do nothing to stop us.'

The lieutenant did not reply, undoubtedly considering this option, and the German decided to strike while the iron was still as hot as hell.

'Think of these dumb, lazy Nazi sluts that consider themselves immune, safe in their houses, behind their husbands' backs. Now they will fear us more than devils.'

Aldo's eyes lit up momentarily, but his involuntary smile faded almost at once.

'There will be problems with her,' he voiced what his common sense told him and shot another glance at the girl, who was still sitting motionless on the grass. And drew his gaze like a fucking magnet, bringing back some memories. Quite nice memories indeed. Of a brothel they had come across two months ago. Of a woman whose name he did not even know. Of the play of light and shadow on her skin so soft and smooth that his rough fingers had felt strange on it. Completely out of place.

'She won't cause problems,' Stiglitz followed his gaze. 'And if she does, I'll make her regret it faster than she can say "Heil Hitler". She'll follow the rules.'

Aldo clenched his teeth, feeling his arguments running out, which in fact happened quite frequently during his conversations with Stiglitz. And he still did not like the idea. Not at all.

'Yeah, but we'll have to feed her.' He decided to resort to economical reasons, but the German shrugged dismissively.

'She won't eat much. Really.'

'Still…,' the lieutenant hesitated for a moment, his gaze travelling to the girl again and then to Donowitz, who was sitting near the fire, smoking a cigarette. And not taking his eyes off her. Then to Hirschberg and Kagan, who seemed to be occupied with sorting supplies, but the furtive glances they shot at the captive told another story.

'I'll take care of her.' Stiglitz seemed to be reading his mind. To a great extent.

'You'd better do.' Aldo's eyes flashed dangerously. 'The boys are kinda starved. Don't wanna them to act around her like a bunch of fucking animals. I'll tell them to stay away from her right now, but I can't really guarantee anything. It's better to keep her away.' He ran his eyes over the girl's figure again. 'Unless your revenge plan includes any help from them.'

'I'll keep her in my tent,' Stiglitz's voice had not changed a bit, still irritatingly calm. On the verge of being bored. 'Don't worry, you won't see much of her.'

'Perfect,' Aldo gave him a lopsided smile. 'Aren't you afraid she'll try to kill you and run away when the first opportunity arises?'

Stiglitz smirked. 'She's already had such plans. But I persuaded her not to follow them.'

'You persuaded her?' the lieutenant laughed it off, but then suddenly grew serious, pondering over something for a while.

'She'll be your responsibility, Hugo. Have your revenge if that's what you need, but remember why we are here. I don't want you to be occupied with her more than necessary. Is it clear?'

'Sure,' Stiglitz replied automatically, but then he noticed the commander's serious expression and they eyed each other for a moment before the German smiled imperceptibly.

'Yes, _sir_,' he finally said.

'Alright,' the lieutenant's face twitched in a grimace that did not really express approval, but a frown on his face disappeared almost completely. 'So we'll keep her here for a while. But first I wanna talk to her. Donny says she can speak English. Is it true?'

Astrid flinched when she saw them move towards her, which in all probability meant that they had finished talking. Debating about her fate. Scraps of their conversation that had reached her were not quite understandable – or perhaps she was not able to understand them – but from the way their voices occasionally got louder and sharper she could guess they did not quite agree on something. Whether it was good or bad – or rather bad or worse as these were the only two options left – she could not really say.

She was chilled to the bone; the wet blouse was unpleasantly clinging to her body, but that did not really matter. The chill of the night had eventually waken her up, snapped her out of numbness she had fallen into some time ago, on their way to the camp, when it had become obvious that no miracle, no miraculous saviour could get her out of their clutches and fear enveloped her like a too-tight dress, paralysing her so much that she was not even able to think logically. To find any way out of the horror.

It was all like a dream, a surrealistic sequence of nightmares that had begun in the study and got worse with every minute. The sight of Dieter's battered, bloodied – yet still breathing –body had terrified her so much that she had burst into tears quite against herself. Against her better judgement. Against her actual feelings for him. And he had seen it – his eyes were opened when Stiglitz brought her there so that – as he had said – she could say goodbye to her husband. So that the Gestapo major could see her hysteric outburst, her exemplary reaction to what they had done to him.

And she had done well. So well that Stiglitz had to drag her into the corridor, when her legs buckled and she paled so much that the danger of her fainting became quite real. He forcibly sat her down on the floor, while the others were plundering the apartment.

It took her a while to understand questions they asked about any weapons and food, about jewellery and money. Yet she answered them all, for a moment hoping that after they robbed the flat of whatever they could lay their hands on, they would leave her alone. Of course she was wrong.

Stiglitz had told her no lies about his other men waiting outside; three of them were lurking in the shadows at the gate, dressed in familiar German uniforms, armed with machine guns she knew they had taken from Dieter's guards. Having slit their throats first.

They had thrown the bodies aside and when she caught a glimpse of what was left from Johann, one of the guards, a nice boy from Berlin she had – almost – been friends with, she burst into tears again. And it took not only Stiglitz's warning words but also a touch of his knife on her ribs to silence her. The rain muffled her last sobs as he was dragging her across the street to the truck waiting under the trees. But it was merely the beginning.

The horror of travelling at the back of the truck was even worse, when she was sitting among them in her clothes wet from the rain, thrown onto the dirty floor together with the things they had robbed from the apartment. She instinctively cowered away, moved to the corner, feeling their hostile glances, hearing their filthy comments and derisive laughter.

Stiglitz was not there; he was travelling in the driver's cabin and he had left her with the others, making one of the men responsible for her. That is, for her discomfort and indignity. The man, the boy in fact, only scowled at her as they were going down the road and then he did not react at all when Donowitz unceremoniously gripped her arm to draw her closer, running his hand up her thigh, which made her cry and struggle without success and gave the others a good reason to laugh.

Help came from the least expected side – one of them barked at the Bear Jew to leave her alone and, miraculously, it worked. Donowitz returned to his previous place, still laughing, but he did not try to lay a finger on her again. And after what seemed to be an eternity Astrid risked a cautious glance at the man who had prevented whatever could result from that, but she looked away at once, meeting his stern eyes.

'You! Get up!'

The voice that broke through her reverie did not belong to Stiglitz and she slowly raised her head to look at them, but did not even try to raise herself and the man, their commander as she guessed, gave her an angry glare. Yet he did not repeat his command; he gestured at her instead and Stiglitz grabbed her arm and pulled her up to her feet, dragging her closer to the fire, the other man following them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Donowitz getting up and she trembled at the thought of him moving any closer to her. But, surprisingly, he kept his distance.

Their commander looked her up and down slowly, his gaze stopping at her breasts for a moment long enough to let her know that he could see her nipples under the wet material of the blouse and she blushed violently. And her hands clenched into fists in a helpless rage.

'My name's Lt. Aldo Raine,' he announced, his voice emanating with the same arrogance she had already seen on his face. 'I guess you've heard of me and the Basterds.'

She nodded stiffly, when he paused for effect and he let out a snort of content.

'Glad to know that. Saves me much time and trouble to explain to you why exactly we are so famous among your people. So now that we are half-way through introductions, I need to know your name,' he drawled casually, but in spite of the lightness of his tone she could see a threat in his eyes. And a considerable amount of loathing he did not try to hide. 'So what's you name?'

She almost whispered the answer and he snorted impatiently.

'I can't hear you,' he smiled at her coldly. 'Either you speak up or I'll tell my men to check how loud you can be.'

'Astrid,' she stuttered out.

'Astrid,' he repeated and the corners of his lips twitched in a contemptuous grimace. 'Ain't it nice? Astrid Hellstrom, right? The Nazi major's wife?'

She stiffened at his last words and averted her eyes in sudden fear.

'I'm really pleased to meet you, Astrid,' he smiled nastily when she looked at him again. 'Welcome to our camp. Hope you'll enjoy your stay. You must know that we have great plans for you.'

She blinked before her gaze moved down and it was when she froze once more, her eyes fixed on a thick line visible on his neck, just above the black scarf he was wearing. At first she thought it was just an effect of poor light, a shadow, or her imagination. But it was a scar, a horrible remainder of something she was not even able to think about at that very moment. Or to guess how he had been able to survive whatever had left the scar.

And he knew exactly what had caught her attention as he gave a short laugh.

'You're quite observant. Quite smart,' he looked at her mockingly. 'That's really nice. Right now I don't have time for that, but tomorrow we'll talk about your husband,' he promised. 'You're probably aware of some interesting details of his professional career. People he's killed under interrogation. Or those he's sent to concentration camps.'

Her lips parted in surprise and she looked up at him in disbelief, in horror, while he was staring at her coldly, sneeringly.

'You didn't know that? Didn't know what was a part of his job?'

'I…' she looked at him vacantly and for a second her eyes moved to Stiglitz helplessly.

'I see,' the lieutenant nodded in mock concern. 'No idea at all. Maybe you're just like the other German women. Only kids, kitchen and church and this is what you're used to, right?' I'm sure we can arrange something that may suit your needs. Except maybe for church,' he smiled nastily. Really nastily. 'But we'll give you the reasons to pray quite often.'

'My family…' she suddenly began, her voice shaking terribly, no matter how much she wanted it to sound firm, 'my family will pay you if you let me go.'

They exchanged looks and the man in front of her snorted with laughter.

'Really?' he raised an eyebrow and his lips stretched in a parody of a smile. But his eyes were still cold. Ice-cold. 'And who exactly will pay for you? Your husband?'

She swallowed hard. 'My father.' That sounded even more pathetic. Like a faint groan.

'Your father?' the commander now looked amused as if she was telling a good joke. 'Well, nice to hear that. We didn't really plan it, but maybe we'll pay him a visit,' he once again exchanged glances – and smirks – with Stiglitz. 'To talk about a good price for you. Provided that you are still worth something when we finish with you.'

She cringed once. And again, when his hand shot towards her, when she was absolutely positive that he would hit her – even surprised that it was not his intention – and she yanked her head only once when he took hold of her chin, but his warning scowl made her freeze. He studied her face with an absolutely detached expression.

'You did it?' he asked Stiglitz, gesturing at her cheek.

'No. That's Dieter's hallmark. It seems that our lady was rather unhappily married.'

'So she's used to rough handling,' Aldo's eyes met hers with no empathy at all. 'That's good. That's really good.'

He let go of her chin and she almost glared at him. Almost, as her instinct warned her against it, but he must have sensed her intention, as his eyes bore into hers again.

'There are certain rules you must obey here. No disobedience. No questions. No irritating noises. We don't take kindly to shouting or screaming. Is it clear?' he barked.

'Yes,' the reply came after a moment of silence and she was wondering if it was really her voice, her speaking.

But the man in front of her seemed satisfied and he cast a glance at Stiglitz.

'She'd better change her clothes. We don't want Hellstrom's wife to catch a cold in our custody,' he gave her a teasing smile. 'Take her to your tent, Hugo. And make sure she didn't miss anything from our little chat.'

Stiglitz only smirked before he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the edge of the clearing where some big military tents were set among the trees, half-hidden behind the bushes and hardly visible in the dark.

His was the last in the row, flanked by two trees and located at the edge of their little camp, just behind the circle of faint light, and her eyes nervously scanned the area, though she could not really see much through the darkness around.

And he did not give her much time to admire the views. He pushed her – neither gently nor too brutally – into the tent and for a moment she stood helplessly in the complete blackness before he lit a lantern, then another, and a dim light filled up the tent. Then he gestured at a large mattress covered with blankets.

'Sit down' he barked at her and she obeyed at once, looking around, taking in every detail, though there was not much to see except for a place to sleep, a makeshift table with some papers on it, a metal bowl put on a wooden support, and several bags and parcels the contents of which she could not guess. Her eyes spotted a rifle in the corner and she quickly looked away, afraid that he could see her what had drawn her attention.

But he seemed to ignore her, as if she was just a part of equipment, a part of furnishings, and he went on his usual routines, completely undisturbed by her presence, though her eyes followed his every movement and she was sure he could feel her gaze.

He came to the bowl, washed his face, and reached out for a towel. Unhurriedly, as if she was not there.

When he took off his shirt she got tense, alarmed, but it was only when he turned around that she gave a gasp, both startled and shocked. His back was covered with scars, thick purple lines carved into his skin irreparably, from the nape of his neck down to his waist. And all of them looked to have healed badly.

'Enjoying the view?' he asked acidly, not even turning to face her, and she averted her eyes at once, even closed them for a moment, suddenly so scared – so irrationally terrified – that she did not even hear him approaching until he was right in front of her, his eyes hard and hostile.

'Turn around,' he commanded harshly, but she only recoiled in horror and he let out a sharp, impatient hiss, pushing her onto the mattress.

When he leaned over her she uttered a strange muffled sound that changed into a squeal as he turned her over onto her stomach, cursing under his breath at her pathetic attempts to struggle free.

'Don't scream and don't move,' he growled warningly, pressing her face into the blanket for an instant, and she gave in even before she heard him chuckle.

'Good girl,' his fingers wrapped around her wrists and she gave a groan of pain, feeling the rope dig into her skin even more.

'Now I'm gonna get rid of your bonds for a moment,' he informed her. 'Don't try anything stupid or I'll cut your fingers off.'

She did not move, just waited motionless until he finished and her arms fell to the sides, stiff and aching. Only then did she try to sit up. To rub her wrists, burning as hell.

But he did not let her. He simply pushed her back onto the mattress and before she had time to react he ran his hand over her back up to her neck, brushing her skin slowly, absentmindedly, and she froze again, her fear suddenly returning, her breath coming from her in short bursts.

'I've heard that Donny didn't quite keep his hands off you on the truck,' he started, shifting forward to reach her ear and she cowered in terror, closing her eyes as she felt his breath on her cheek. 'You missed me then, didn't you? You wish I'd been there with you? Protect you from them?' he teased with a smirk she knew was there, even though she could not see it, while his fingers were still caressing her neck, stroking her skin.

She bit down hard on her lower lip not to sob, her fear of him now close to panic, but he suddenly got up, leaving her numb, exhausted, unable to move.

'Are you sleeping there?' he snarled impatiently. 'Sit up.'

She slowly, carefully did as he had told her, rubbing her wrists mechanically.

'That's better,' he admitted and she looked at him again. Stunned. Confused about what he wanted and a familiar smirk flashed across his mouth.

'I'm afraid you must undress now,' he said. 'The commander wanted you to take off these wet clothes.'

She swallowed hard. Echoes of what Donowitz had said to her in her bedroom came flooding back, no matter how desperately she tried to suppress them.

'No need to worry,' Stiglitz sneered at her. 'There's nothing I haven't seen before. And if you're afraid I'm gonna fuck you right now, I must disappoint you. At the moment I'm not.'

She dropped her eyes and wrapped her arms around her knees unconsciously.

'But if you disobey me,' he continued, 'if you piss me off, if you don't cooperate, I may change my mind.'

'Cooperate?' she looked up at him apprehensively and his face twitched in a grimace of satisfaction_._

'Tomorrow. We'll talk tomorrow, be sure. Now we must take care of your clothes. Undress. Now.'

He reached for one of the bags, going through its contents in haste until he pulled out what he had been looking for and threw her a red dress. Her dress, she realized at once and gave him a wary, questioning glance.

'Oh, yes,' he sneered again. 'It's yours. I borrowed this from your wardrobe. After all, you did quite well in front of Dieter. Hope he liked your performance as much as I did. So why not reward you with a nice dress to make you feel better?'

She glared at him for a second before she looked away and he gave a chuckle, evidently amused by her reaction. But his amusement did not last long.

'I've told you something,' he reminded her, a threatening edge to his voice. 'If I have to repeat myself, or wait any longer, I'll make sure you won't like the punishment.'

She took of her blouse and changed her clothes hurriedly, trying not to look at him, not to check if he was still staring at her. But when she finished, he was bending over the table with his back to her, removing some papers and she shot a glance at the entrance, which was not so far – not so unavailable – now that her hands were free. She got up to her feet without thinking.

'Going somewhere?' his voice pinned her to the spot before she could take a step and he approached her in no hurry.

'Maybe you still don't get it,' he smirked, 'but right now it's the safest place for you in the camp.'

'Safest?' she snapped before she could stop herself and averted her eyes in fear.

'Ironic, isn't it?' he cocked his head a bit, looking at her searchingly. 'But it's true. Going outside would be silly. Unless you want to taste Jewish vengeance firsthand. Who knows, maybe I should let you.'

'You told me…' she suddenly started, her voice hoarse and strange.

'Yes?' he asked in mock politeness.

'You told me I'd survive this,' she almost whispered.

A muscle in his otherwise expressionless face twitched and he gave her a strange look.

'I've never said anything like that,' he finally said and a smirk appeared on his face again. 'You must have misinterpreted our little chat.'

'However,' he added when she looked away. 'I must say that your chances of survival are quite good. The lieutenant didn't throw you to his men, though I'm sure he considered that. Didn't tell them to kill you, though he had such plans. Instead of eliminating you in a way he prefers he agreed on leaving you with me, at my questionable mercy,' he spoke in a casual, conversational manner. 'Which was by far the best option to offer to someone like you. And yes, I can tell you that you might survive this. If you do exactly what I tell you. And when I tell you.'

This time she held his gaze, studying his face, trying to see through him. Through this derisive façade.

'Why don't you,' she paused for a moment, feeling a lump in her throat, but ignoring it in sheer desperation, 'why don't you kill me right now?'

'Another commendable attempt at bravery,' he mocked, raising an eyebrow. 'The answer to this question is very simple. Because I need you.'

'To get your revenge on Dieter?' Her eyes widened for an instant before they narrowed in irritation. Barely controlled irritation. 'He couldn't care less.'

'That's where you're wrong,' he smiled. 'Now you should go to sleep. I'll need your full attention tomorrow.'

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Thanks to all of you who have read it, waited patiently for the next chapter, added this story to favourites, alerted it, and review it. Happy New Year to you, first of all.

I know it's been a while, but – believe it or not – November and particularly December was nothing but a _series of unfortunate events for me and the last thing I could do or think about was to continue writing my stories. Hope the new year will be much much better, which I also wish you. _


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